


One Chance

by arlenejp



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Eli gets his wish, Lightman is gruff, M/M, MAN TO MAN, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: Cal Lightman is a smart man. He's able to read people by their facial features and their body language. He senses that Eli Loker wants-- but does he give?
Relationships: Cal Lightman/Eli Loker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	One Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick one written for Lie to Me, the tv series.

Doctor Cal Lightman, sitting on the table, one leg swinging over the edge, is staring down a thirtyish, heavy-set woman.

The said woman shows typical signs of anxiety.  
Biting of her lip, hands white-knuckled, and legs firmly crossed.

* * *

We're in the offices of the group that Lightman launched three years ago.  
The small staff, of which I am one, accepts assignments from local and federal law enforcement.  
We assist them in their investigations using psychology.  
It involves deciphering tiny facial expressions and body language.

* * *

A state-of-the-art facility that features elaborate computers.  
But the dominating feature in the room is a clear glass cube--the interrogation center.

* * *

I was hired last fall as what he calls a 'natural' to be part of his small team.  
A natural is a person who already has the ability to comprehend the subtleties of non-verbal communication.

* * *

I've studied his books and his methods but compared to Lightman and his associate Gillian Foster, I'm a neophyte.

* * *

I gaze into the cube, regarding Anna Felt through the window and listening to Lightman challenge her statements.

She wears no wedding band, but her suspended silver earrings are a gift from a gentleman.  
She strokes the two silver bracelets on her bare arm.  
Also, a gift.  
She's either from a well-to-do family or employed in a well-paying profession.  
Her designer jeans and silk flowered shirt are a giveaway.

* * *

Lightman plops into the seat across from Anna, his head in the palm of his hand as if he's not interested in what she says.  
He gazes at her in a scrutinizing intense way, his manner of speaking bordering on abusive.

* * *

Lightman looks out to the office, raises his hand, beckoning me to step into the cube.

"Oy, Loker, have a look at this," shoving two pictures over to the edge of the table.

A glance at the first picture has a man and woman, dressed in bathing suits, lying on a blanket at the beach.  
They're holding hands, eyes closed.

The other photo is Anna standing in the middle between two men.  
Her father, on the left, is instantly recognized. They are look-alikes.  
The other male is the same as on the beach.  
The three --dressed formally--dinner out, maybe?

* * *

"What say you, hey Loker?"

I look over at Anna, who is again biting her lip, and offer my opinion.  
"Let's see. There's definite tension in your fathers' smile. One hand is holding your shoulder--a protective manner, perhaps?" pausing, "your father is not pleased with your choice."

* * *

She sighs, grimaces.

I have it right, silently pat myself on the back and resume, "he thought Victor was a con man."

She twists the bracelets at her wrist, clearly bought by Victor.

Lightmans eyes never waver off of Annas' face, at the same time tap, tapping his finger on the table.  
"Victor Blendhiems head was bludgeoned by a blunt instrument. He was found by his sister lying half out of his car. In his garage."

Her lips tremble, "But you can't believe my father did--," tears edging their way out.

"You kept seeing him. Sleeping with him," Lightman says with no feeling other than stating the fact.  
Just like him.

He surprises me, as he is wont to do, by offering her his handkerchief and rubbing her shoulder.

I wonder why I'm in the room with them.  
Of what use am I?

"Hey, Loker, bring her some water and pick up the folder that's sitting at my desk."

* * *

He's infuriating! I sense I'm little more than his flunky. Do this, get that.

* * *

Once I'm back in the square, he's calculatingly sitting askew in the black chair.  
One leg hooked over the arm, his head lopsided, and his right hand holding his head up.  
He puts on this act all the time.  
It's his way of disarming people.

* * *

"Listen darlin'. We're gonna bring in your dad for an evaluation, okay?"

Her gaze bounces from him to me, making choking sounds as if she's clearing her throat and holding herself together.

"Please," she stands, leans on the table, her voice cracking, "it couldn't' be him, it couldn't. Yes, he was upset with me, but it isn't in him to kill someone," her face hides in the handkerchief. 

She herself is doubtful. Ah, her father has a volatile side to him.

* * *

Lightman stands, opens the door to usher her out, and motions with his hand that I should follow both of them.

* * *

The following morning Det. Sharon Wallowski and Anna's father are in the cube with Doctor Lightman.

It only takes Lightman a few minutes to determine that dad wasn't the one who killed Victor.

Lightman has a quick, whispered conversation with the detective and the father.

After they leave, it's Lightman and me, alone in his office. "Loker, want some coffee?"

Walking to the sideboard where the pot is, he's like a scarecrow, all loose ends.  
It looks like legs and arms flopping in all directions.  
But I make no mistake about it--he is very aware of his every action, his every distinct way of talking.  
The words darling, love, and others of similar ilk are carefully planted.

* * *

"Have a seat, Eli."  
I'm startled by the use of my first name.  
In the confines of our offices, he calls everyone by their last names.  
Not even a mister or missus.

He picks up the coffeepot, pours the dark fluid into cups, and remembers that I use milk and sugar, places that in my cup.

Slouching in his brown padded chair, he takes a sip of the brew and carefully sets it on a trivet on his desk.

* * *

"Hey there. What's with the sideways glances you've been giving me lately?"

"What--"

"Oh stop! Don't give me any bullshit stuff. Even now you're doing that thing, you know," aiming one finger in my direction.

Both incredulous and fearful, "Are you reading me? My face? I thought we were not supposed to do that to each other."

"Yea," he chuckles, sinking into the seat," but you've been entertaining to watch the last few days."

" Okay," I say, slightly fearful of what's to come, "tell me, oh wise one. What have you seen?"

He sits up straight, leans over the desk, that damnable finger stretching toward me  
"Well, my darlin', for one thing, there's the eye contact, like now."

I hastily look down.

"See, you just did it! When I get a load of your eyes, you look down, and you pull away. And then you color up. Oh, only slight, but it's there," he grins, but underneath there's a serious side.

His grin doesn't completely extend to his cheeks and especially his eyes.

"Okay, okay! You think you know it all! What else do you want to conclude about my attitude towards you?" holding myself stiff while waiting for the inevitable.  
The truth.

"For chrissake," he chuckles, "that's not enough? When I'm at the computer you invariably lean over me. So close, I can feel your breath. Like you did a few moments ago."

"Oh that!" picking at an imaginary something on my pants. I know he's deciphering that to mean apprehension on my part.  
And it is.  
"Give me your interpretation, then, of what you assume is going on."  
Here it comes!  
It's going to gush from him-- no filter--utter truth.

His blasted finger stabs at the desk, stressing his subsequent words," you have some kink feelings for me. Like--,"

Oh god! He's totally got it!  
I spring out of the seat and seize the doorknob.

"Hey, come back here!" he shouts as I slam the door and run to the men's room.

Its true! It's all true!

I've never worried about my sexual duality. It's always been a core element of who I am.  
But-- the idea of messing with this man, this particular one!  
It has me both alarmed and fascinated.

* * *

I dry my hands, walk into the hall, and regard Gillian's figure approaching.  
Her heels stomping on the tile floor, suggest she's agitated.  
Her lips pinched.

"What's got you so bothered?" I say, moving in step with her.

"What has Lightman got up his butt? Just left his office, and he's fired up."

Her shoulder-length hair floats around her meticulously made-up face.  
She's wearing the deep red dress that embraces her figure.

"I have no idea but--" we stop as we hear a shout, "Hey, both of you come in my office-- right now."

She shrugs her shoulders and we walk into the open door of Lightman's office.

* * *

"Wallowski called. She's bringing in a suspect in the Felt case. I want the two of you to be in on this. By the way, how is Torres?" never giving us a glance.

He's sitting on the edge of the desk, one foot dangling over, his hands rifling through a green folder.  
I can tell he has not the slightest interest in its contents.

"She said she'll be into work in about three days. The flu really got to her," Gillian answers before I can," anything else you need?" she half turns away and waits.

"Nah," Cal says, waving her off with his hand, "tottle off like a good girl. There you go."

She looks puzzled, pauses at the door, opens it, and when Lightman says nothing, she withdraws.

* * *

Figuring he's finished, I start to remove myself from his presence.

" I did nothing to indicate that you should go. I'm not finished with you. Take a chair," indicating the one furthest from his desk.

At this moment, my entire body goes on alert.  
He's going to test me.  
Watch my facial features, my body language.  
Which I know I'll go down like a lead balloon, so before he begins, I speak,--"Okay, you have me. But before you dismantle me with your analysis, let me reveal to you that, yes, I'm attracted to you sex-wise. "

He relaxes, smiling, lifting his chin, and tossing the binder on the desk.

He rolls over a chair and shifts it close enough that our knees touch.  
His stare is deep enough to cut into every fabric of my being.

"Yes," lifting a leg to cross it over my other.  
I need to disconnect from the physical connection.  
It's become too simple for him to feel the chills moving over my physical self.  
"But I do prefer women."  
Shrugging," but from time to time, a man strikes me--well--you know."

"Yea. Gets you right in the balls. Makes you want to jerk his cock,"-- his stare centered at the intersection of my crossed legs.

"Uncross them legs. You're not a virgin, ya know, darlin'."

I take a breath.  
I'm in this too deep to back out.  
I unfold my legs and separate them to give him an excellent view.  
Let him imagine.

p>He slightly shakes his head, winks, bends forward to capture my private parts in his hand.

Even through the pants he can tell I'm hard.  
I twitch, ready to--.

"Hey, hey. Don't go," he says, as he loosens his hold on my genitals.  
I sigh with relief--and a somewhat disappointment.

He steps behind me, his hand lays on my shoulder, casually rubbing.  
"My daughter will be at her mums' this weekend. Saturday night good?"

I twist around to look at him, reading a false casualness.  
He is hoping I agree.

"Why not. I'm up for it. But-I don't do ass. Is that okay?" shivering with need.  
The need to take him down right now, right here.

"Fine with me. A full night or just a swing at it?" happy that he is behind me and cannot see my hands intertwining with anxiety.

He snorts, "Why not see how it goes down? See what we--."

I don't have anything to say. I sit, huddled in my body, my head churning with ideas.

* * *

"To let you know before you get any high hopes, Loker, this is a one-off. No second chance. Get me?" 

Crossing to his desk he sits, "okay, now that we have that out of the way, get out of my space. Need to work on the Felt case."

"Hey, not a word to anyone, okay?" I say, standing up, feeling slightly hard.

"Now why would I do that? Can't ruin my reputation, ya know!" chuckling while I do a slow burn out of his office.

He's exasperating--but still naughty in a way that's welcome to me.

* * *

I remain standing at his door, vacillating for probably fifteen minutes.  
Do I want to--do I not.

The door bursts open, startling me, removing any choices out of my hands.

Tearing the wine bottle out from under my arm he throws it on the couch.

"No time for boozin. Come on, little man, let's see what you got," instantly fumbling at my zipper.

"Hey wait--," pulling in my midsection, attempting to maintain a strategic distance.  
Out of nowhere, I feel the need to forestall this evenings' event.

"No waitin', darlin'. You want me and now come get me."

Holding my pants by the waist, he draws me into his bedroom.  
While I stand, helplessly drowning, he drops my pants to the floor.

The evening goes precisely as I was anticipating that it should.  
Well, not exactly.  
But that's Cal Lightman for you.  
Surprises always.

* * *

I walk into the workplace Monday uncertain of myself.  
How will Lightman treat me?  
I didn't need to stress over it in view of the fact that Lightman pokes his head out of the office door," hey Loker, get in here. What have you been doing? Screwing around again?"

**Author's Note:**

> I've had so much fun watching this show that I had to put the two gents together.  
> Comments, whether good or bad are welcome.


End file.
